


An Answer to Prayer

by Jupiter_Ash



Series: The Tales of Eden Cottage [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Humour, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, POV Outsider, Post-Apocalypse, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 07:43:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19884079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiter_Ash/pseuds/Jupiter_Ash
Summary: Prayers can be answered in a multitude of different ways. When it came to a certain cottage in the South Downs though, no one had expected it to be answered by the squealing wheels of a classic Bentley and Queen's Princes of the Universe.All Karen wanted to do was sell a house.





	An Answer to Prayer

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to geekoncaffeine for the beta.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that nothing shakes up a small community more than the prospect of change. In the small world of Little Aven, that change arrived in the form of a classic Bentley, an empty cottage, and a pleasantly mild Tuesday afternoon.

As Tuesdays went, it had started much like any other Tuesday, a bit overcast, a bit dull, a bit average, but also dry, mild, and benefitting from not being a Monday*.

_*Which in all honesty was all you could pretty much ask for of your average Tuesday._

Karen Loeffler of Crawford and Co. certainly hadn't been expecting much, and indeed, until the phone rang at exactly 10:30am that morning, nothing much had happened other than the usual emails, paperwork and the recovering of a document the senior Mr. Crawford had accidentally deleted*. 

_*Again._

After the phone call, nothing much had still seemed to have happened, but that just goes to show how easily major life changing events can be mistaken for something completely routine. In Karen's case, change had merely announced itself as a new viewing booked for the old Kingsley place that afternoon. Not having an inkling of what was to come, Karen pulled up the information about that particularly property and an hour and a bit later decided to take an early lunch. 

The day, therefore, continued in a usual sort of fashion, until change itself arrived at two minutes past two to the squealing wheels of a classic Bentley and Queen's Princes of the Universe.

When asked later about whom she had been expecting for the viewing, Karen quite firmly admitted that a skinny man in dark sunglasses, skinny jeans and a face tattoo was not it.

“Eden Cottage?” 

The voice was also definitely not the same as the man who had called that morning. That voice had been decidedly softer, posher and almost apologetic. This... was not.

She did, however, confirm that this was indeed Eden Cottage.

“Ah-ha!” she heard him exclaim as his head ducked back down into the car. “Told you I'd find it alright.”

_No man could understand,_ Freddie belted from the speakers, _my power is in my own hand..._

There was a moment of heavy silence*, then the passenger side door opened and a second figure emerged, as opposite from the first person as you could get. Rounder, softer and decidedly more beige, his expression was one of moderate disproval, all pursed lips and frown lines, like a school teacher you had somehow disappointed, where such disappointment was far, far worse than any number of detentions could ever be.

_*Other than Freddie._

Fortunately for Karen, that expression was solely aimed at the first figure, as was the silent conversation that seemed to go on between them which finished with a huff* from the first figure, the driver's door being firmly closed, and Freddie** being cut off***.

_*And probably an eye roll, but it was hard to tell with the sunglasses. ___

_**With my sword and head held high, got to pass the test first time, yeah-_

_***Most surprisingly in that order._

__

It was at that point that the second figure politely closed his own door, straighten up, smoothed down his bowtie and waistcoat, and then walked towards her with the most brilliant of smiles that should have felt either creepy or false but was somehow both bright and genuine.

__

“Ms. Loeffler,” he said warmly, his voice a perfect match for the earlier telephone conversation, “I hope we haven't kept you waiting long.”

__

It was now four minutes past their two o'clock scheduled meeting time, which was pretty much on time in her book, and the world was once more ready to change.

__

The house showing itself went very smoothly. 

__

Almost unnaturally smoothly.

__

Following his initial comments at the car, the first gentleman barely said a word, just followed along with his hands in his pockets letting the second gentleman make all the conversation.

__

Not that the second gentleman needed any help in making conversation, he was rather adept at it and was certainly not shy in showing his delight in pretty much everything and anything she could think to show them. 

__

Comments of, “Oh, isn't that so lovely,” and “just look at the light in here”, and “such unique decoration” were met with the odd, “uh-huh,” “yup”, and somewhat oddly, “as you say, angel,” from his companion.

__

By the time they had finished the tour of the cottage, Karen was desperately reassessing everything she thought she knew about, well, people like them. There was no doubt in her mind about their situation. Despite their virtually opposite appearance and behaviour, they were the most coupley couple she had ever met under the age of eighty. When pressed later, she would point to their partial conversations, their ease of presence, the way they seemed to know what the other one was thinking, but it was even more than that. It was the way they seemed to follow each other with their eyes, it was the shared smiles that suggested to shared experiences, it was the beige man's laugh of delight in discovering some nook or cranny and the fond smile that it elicited that was only partially obscured by sunglasses.

__

That the second gentleman was, well, gay - was that the right term nowadays? There were so many now and it was hard to keep up with what was offensive and what wasn't - was rather obvious. There was a softness about him that was almost effeminate. He was also wearing a worn waistcoat, jacket and bow tie that seemed to belong to a completely different time and place. It somehow suited him, but only seemed to add to the general queerness - could you use that word again now? - around him.

__

The other gentleman, on the other hand, was all swerve and swagger, all sunglasses and tight lines, and, my goodness, were those snakeskin boots? He was almost so hip and cool it was almost painful. Like a retired actor or an aging rock star. He didn't so much stand as slouch, didn't so much walk as swagger. He was even wearing nail varnish. On his own, she might not have thought of him as anything but heterosexual, but then men were wearing all sorts nowadays and it was so hard to tell one way or another.

__

One thing was for certain though, even with his sunglasses on, it was clear he had eyes for one person and one person only.

__

It was rather sweet really.

__

“Oh, Crowley, dear, look, they have apple trees!”

__

They were outside now, something that was the property's best and worst selling point. There were many reasons why this particular property had been on the market for so long, and part of it was the extensive land that came with it. For one the land meant the asking price was far above the average for a property of its sort so it tended to put locals off, and for two it would clearly require a lot of maintenance and love to get the best out of it, which tended to put off city folk.

__

As it was, the current owners could only afford to keep the lawn closest to the house neat and tidy, which meant that other parts, including the small orchard at the far end, had gone practically wild. Even the bushes and flower beds were now overgrown, and as for the old vegetable patch, well, it was apparently there somewhere. 

__

“And so much space,” the beige man enthused. “You could have a vegetable patch, and flowers, and fruit. Why, there's even room for a greenhouse as well. And look, over there, look how well it catches the sun. All it needs is a large flat stone. And oh, can you hear the bees?”

__

With that, the beige gentleman was off, winding his way down the path, stopping only to close his eyes and breath it all in.

__

The other gentleman just watched him in silence for a while, hands still somehow in his jeans pockets.

__

For a moment, Karen considered what to say him, not an easy task since they had yet to share a proper word since the initial entrance, but just as she was about to make comment on the solid nature of the cottage, he turned and said quite simply, “How much?”

__

He raised an eyebrow when she quoted the current asking price.

__

“That's what they're asking for _thisss_?” He managed to drag a hand out of a pocket to wave vaguely at the cottage and the garden.

__

The vague hope that Karen had been unexpectedly feeling up until then started to drain away as she quickly started to explain that unfortunately that was as low as the owners were able to go and it was already significantly lower than it had started for.

__

He stuck his hand back in his pocket and rocked back on his heels. “How much did it ssstart for then?”

__

She told him.

__

He raised another eyebrow, then turned back to where his... partner? husband? significant other?... appeared to be cooing over a butterfly he had carefully cupped in his hands.

__

“Tell me about Little Aven.”

__

Now that she could do, and falling back on her well used spiel she started to tell him about the local school and community, the co-op and corner stores, the park and surrounding lands, the town just ten minutes away.

__

“And what about the people?” he asked, interrupting her.

__

She blinked, thrown somewhat by the way she felt he was scrutinising her from behind the dark lenses.

__

“They're... nice,” she managed.

__

His expression turned scornful as he looked away. “I've met nice,” he all but hissed. “Nice people vote on committees, they write letters about things they disapprove of, they spend time considering how things might appear to other people. _Nice_ people have defined ideas of what is right or wrong, and to hell with anyone not just like them. If there is one thing I know, it's that _nice_ people don't like people like me.”

__

Oh, she though. Oh! Oh. And something within her sort of broke. There was history behind those words and suddenly the clothes, the swagger, the attitude, even the sunglasses despite the lack of sun, all took on new meaning. 

__

“Oh. No,” she said quickly, even as she felt the heat rising in her cheeks. “You- uh, that is to say, you wouldn't, at least I would hope you wouldn't- that they wouldn't... be like that.”

__

He was looking at her again, silent and unreadable behind his sunglasses.

__

“Look,” she said, pulling herself up to her full height, “you're different, uh, obviously different, and uh, well Little Aven is a small place, but, uh, that's not to say that different is bad, or that everyone here would think different is bad, or anything like that, but Little Aven is like anywhere in that people are, uh, people, and yes, everyone really does more or less know everyone, and while not everyone especially likes everyone, no one is excluded or anything, and it really is a nice, uh, friendly place.”

__

He kept looking at her. It was... odd.

__

“Friendly,” he somewhat drawled after a moment, “right. I suppose I could do _friendly_.”

__

She breathed out.*

__

_*As to when she had started holding her breath she had no idea._

__

For a moment she thought she had completely bollixed it up, lost a potential sale over one small question.*

__

_*But obviously not a small question to her potential client._

__

“I can't do anything about the people,” she started deciding that she might as well go for broke, “but the village really is lovely and the property seems to be everything that you've been looking for, so if this is something you may be seriously considering, then I could talk to the owners again, see if there is any wiggle room on the price.”

__

It was that inscrutable look again.

__

“Crowley! Crowley, dearest, you just have to come and look at this view. There are ducks!”

__

They both looked to where the beige gentleman was beaming expectedly at them from across the garden.

__

“I'll let you know,” the first gentleman said quietly and then he was striding off across the grass.

__

Twelve minutes later she followed them back to their car. It was funny really, the way they walked together, it almost felt as if they were holding hands although they weren't.

__

“It has been most delightful, Ms. Loeffler,” the softer gentleman declared as the other gentleman unlocked the Bentley. “It was so kind of you to be able to accommodate us on such a short notice. This is truly a most magical place.”

__

The other gentleman said nothing as he leant against the driver's car door.

__

“I hope we will be able to further this acquaintance.”

__

“Come along, angel,” the sharper man said, although there was no bite to the words. “We've taken up enough time.”

__

Smiling and nodding, the softer man acquiesced, getting into the passenger side. A minute later and they were pulling away, and then they were gone.

__

*

__

If Karen had heard the conversation that followed in the car, she would have been confused certainly, but also considerably more positive over what had just occurred. As it was, she couldn't but help feel a little disappointed. The cottage truly was lovely, and the beige, softer man had seemed so taken with it that for a while she had thought there had been a good chance of a sale*, but then she had managed to go and upset the darker, sharper man and now she wasn't sure what to think.

__

_*Which would have been good for all involved because that house had been on the market for far too long and it deserved some loving hands looking after it, and she had a feeling that those two, or at least one of them, would appreciate it for everything that it was. The fact she could also do with the bonus that would come with the sale was almost beside the point, but Henry had been working so hard lately that a weekend break just the two of them would be so nice._

__

Returning to the office just as the day decided to become just a little less dry, she replied vaguely to questions of how it had gone and had then resolved to put the entire visit out of her mind.

__

And for the most part she succeeded.

__

It was two days later, and two hours and eighteen minutes into a somewhat average Thursday work day, when the postman delivered an envelope addressed to her. Karen was surprised as she rarely received mail addressed personally to her, especially at work, unless she had ordered something specially, and she couldn't think that she was expecting anything.

__

The postmark said London, but since London was a big place, it did little to narrow down the possibilities.

__

There was, it seemed, only one way to determine what it was and why it was address to her in particular.

__

She opened the envelope.

__

Inside was a single piece of paper folded crisply into thirds. Unfolding that revealed the origin of the letter to be Mayfair and the body of the letter to be a few terse lines followed by a cursive signature and the printed name of the sender.

__

It wasn't the address, or the signature, or even the main bulk of the letter that had her gasping, it was the figure quoted in the middle.

__

She almost missed her chair as she suddenly sat down.

__

Waving away the calls of concern from her colleagues, she shakily reached for the phone and dialed the number at the top of the letter. The voice that answered was sharp and abrupt, but also very familiar. It was also the name at the bottom of the letter.

__

Two minutes later, her hand still shook slightly as she placed the handset down, but at least now she had confirmed that everything that the letter said was correct and it was no joke. No joke at all.

__

“Something the matter, Karen?” Mr. Crawford asked as he walked in the front door.*

__

_*Since it was his business he was entitled to turn up whenever he wanted._

__

“Eden Cottage,” she said, griping onto her composure with all her will and some strong metaphorical finger tips. “We've just received an offer on it.”

__

“Well that's some good news at last. That was starting to become a noose around our necks. A good offer I take it?”

__

“Very good,” she confirmed.

__

“Good, good. In which case, you should call up whatever her name is and give her the good news. Do you think they'll accept it?”

__

Karen looked back down at the letter on the desk. “I think there's a very good chance of that.”

__

In fact, the initial reaction from Mrs. Allen, the current co-owner of Eden Cottage was one of silence.

__

“How much?” Mrs. Allen finally asked in a tone that Karen well recognised.

__

Karen repeated the amount, the amount that was higher than even the original asking price*.

__

_*Approximately 6.66% higher._

__

“Are you sure?”

__

Karen confirmed that not only did she have it in writing, but that she had spoken to the gentleman in question and he had confirmed everything; the full asking price, plus more, cash.

__

There was an odd noise and for a moment, Karen wondered if Mrs. Allen was about to burst into tears. She certainly wouldn't have blamed her at all.

__

“Who's the offer from? A family?”

__

“A couple,” Karen confirmed. “At least, I believe they are. They're a, uh, gay couple, two men, from London, in their 40s maybe, a little bit eccentric, but uh, harmless.”

__

There was a pause, then, “Eccentric?”

__

“Oh nothing bad,” she said quickly, “more quirky than anything, bow tie and waistcoat for one, jeans and sunglasses for the other. Very enthusiastic about the property and the garden, didn't even mind the out dated decoration. It sounded like one of them collects rare books and the other is an avid gardener.”

__

“So, they would look after the place? You know, care for it.”

__

“Oh yes,” Karen said quite firmly, “I couldn't imagine it being in any better hands.”

__

“Well,” Mrs. Allen said taking a deep breath, “we can't exactly be choosers, and the money... I have to speak to my brother first, but you have no idea how good this all sounds. It's like... it's like, an answer to prayer.”

__

*-*-*

__

“Well that was a complete balls up,” Crowley said as they pulled onto the bigger road that took them away from the cottage and the village.

__

“I thought it was most delightful,” Aziraphale replied most primly. “The cottage was most charming and the garden, oh the garden held so much potential. It was practically perfect in every way.”

__

“Perfect, yes,” Crowley said.

__

“And there was so much love there, it was like being in a warm bath. And you can't say that you didn't like it as well. Just think what you could do with that garden, and that view, we wouldn't even have to go that far in order to feed the ducks.”

__

“Ducks!” Crowley cursed as they swung out onto the main road.

__

“Now that was a pleasant surprise. A most thoughtful detail.”

__

“Ducks!” Crowley said again.

__

“But then you've always been better at remembering such details than me.”

__

“And the angel said, 'let there be ducks!'“

__

“I mean really, Eden Cottage, even I was going to notice that one-”

__

“There wasn't even an attempt at being subtle.”

__

“And I should be so cross with you, because you promised-”

__

“Couldn't help yourself, could you.”

__

“But then you just had to go and put in an apple tree and-”

__

“Ducks!”

__

They both spoke the last word together, one softly and happily, the other sharper and decidedly not so happy. It also had the result of ending their conversation for the moment.

__

“So much for keeping a low profile,” Crowley muttered, eyes on the road if that meant he didn't have to look at the kind, generous, idiotic being beside him. “Should have known you would go and do it all behind my back anyway. _Oh, look, Crowley, I've just so happened to find the most lovely, perfect,_ miraculous _place for us, and it's for sale right now._ ”

__

“I do not sound like that! And I told you, finding that listing was just a bit of good luck. And anyway, what do you expect, leaving the newspaper behind to be so easily found. That was hardly subtle. But I'm glad you remembered about the ducks. That was a nice thought.” 

__

“Subtle? Remembered? Ducks? What are you going on about, angel? This has your angelic fingers all across it.”

__

“Me?! Oh no, dear boy, this is all you going behind my back after promising you weren't going to do anything big like this.”

__

“ME?! This has nothing to do with me!”

__

“Crowley! The road!” 

__

The car swerved as Crowley slapped his hands back on the steering wheel, then swerved again as Crowley hit the brakes and pulled them to a screeching stop into a side lane.

__

He turned to stare at his companion.

__

“Are you telling me,” he drew out, “that that whole thing, the cottage, the garden, the duckssss, has nothing to do with you and your heavenly interventions?”

__

Aziraphale looked put out. “Of course not,” he said primly. “We promised we weren't going to do that and I don't go around saying one thing and then doing another. That's more your thing.”

__

“My thing?”

__

“Oh don't look at me like that. I don't blame you. It's in your nature and this was such a nice thought.”

__

“ _Nice_?!”

__

“And you remembered the ducks.”

__

“ _I_ remembered the ducks?! Angel, this isn't me. This has nothing to do with me.”

__

“But of course it does. Eden Cottage, not your most subtle work, but it was so kind.”

__

“Nooooo. No, no, nonononono, no. This isn't me. I swear, on all things holy and unholy, this has nothing to do with me.”

__

“Well, it has nothing to do with me either,” said Aziraphale. “I honestly thought it was all you.”

__

“And I thought it was you.”

__

“So if it's not you,” Aziraphale said slowly, “and it's definitely not me, then who-”

__

It was at that point that the mild and dry Tuesday decided to become just a little less dry in a classic English fashion. Two unearthly beings looked up as the first drops of rain landed on the Bentley in an almost musical way.

__

“Oh,” one or even both of them said.

__

“Right,” Crowley added. “So... Eden Cottage.”

__

“You don't suppose-” Aziraphale started.

__

“Yeah, could be,” Crowley agreed. “It certainly feels somewhat-”

__

“Ineffable?”

__

“Yeah.”

__

“Right.”

__

There was a long moment of silence as they listened to the rain and considered the possibility that the reason the cottage was so perfect for them was simply because a higher power had decided it would be.

__

“I'll, uh, get on it then, put an offer in,” Crowley said.

__

“Oh Crowley, thank you, but please do be nice about it.”

__

“Don't worry, angel, I'll just make them an offer they can't refuse.”

__

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. This should hopefully be just the first of several stories about the Ineffable Husbands and their new cottage in the South Downs.


End file.
